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Monday, September 16, 2013

The first pot of fall soup is simmering on the stove. The
windows of the kitchen are open, airing out the smells of cooking into the
neighbor’s yard. A bouquet of kale casually awaits it’s watery death next to
the pot.

I am suddenly very hungry.

This weekend I hit the wall. Not literally – I would be
very angry with myself if I had to patch up a hole in the plaster. Emotionally.
Something stirred loose and I felt it. I desperately needed a place to hide.

I worry that the meds are going to stop working again. I
am keenly aware of my brain chemistry these days.

I took today off to attend to personal business. It felt
nice to be cooking before 5 p.m., even though we won’t eat so early. I like
having a few hours left where I am able to still think clearly, before the
muddy slosh of after-work washes over me and all I want to do is watch
television. I almost feel like there is enough juice left in me to be creative,
like I haven’t been squeezed dry yet.

I don’t know if you noticed but a whole week went by
without a post. After my streak of regularity I felt sort of empty for not
having written anything. It was a busy week.

Or was it? I don’t remember so many things happening, but
somehow all of the hours got filled and none were left for this.

I promised my aunt and uncle a blog about a baby bird I
tried to save. I haven’t forgotten.

I wonder if my husband would feel like a widower if I stayed
up here in this room, night after night, until I had worked out whatever
creative thing is lying just under my surface. I wonder what he would eat.

That’s an exaggeration – Husband does fine without me.
But it’s difficult to know how a significant other might react to not being
chosen as the center of your attention for long stretches of time. I just
wonder.

For now I am sitting in the attic on a steel chair that
is much too short for the desk we purchased for my writing space. The desk,
consequently, is perfectly sized, yet the room still feels naked.

I’m not sure what it needs to feel less sparse. It’s a
work in progress. Like so many important things in my life.

That’s a whole other tangent. I don’t feel like being so tangential
this evening.

I feel like making pie. I won’t though, because the
sunlight has slipped behind the horizon and soon I will be curling up on the
couch with my little family and forgetting about the kitchen. Then I’ll get
ready for bed and tomorrow will be another work day.

I’ll throw myself back into the week and try to ignore
the very faint hum of anxiety buzzing in my chest for no reason that I can
place. I will breathe in three times, and out three times, over and over until
I feel better. I’ll drink tea and not dwell on things.

I know it's different for everybody but sometimes, you do need some time on your own; you just want to close the door and be with yourself for a few hours (or maybe a few days, why not?). I think if you love the other person, you should understand that and that it can't be just the two of you all the time; it's a great thing to do (being on your own when you want) - and a great luxury I guess! - especially if you have a house that's big enough to "hide"! I know I CAN'T always be with Eric - and God knows we get along very well! There are Saturday and Sunday nights when I'll go to our room for hours and he'll be watching "his" shows downstairs, each of us lost in our own little world.XOXO